I give him a moment to enjoy it. “We’re going to move now. This is where it gets tricky.”
“It’s already tricky.”
“You’re going to keep the clutch in, change into first, then gently press the accelerator as you ease up on the clutch.”
He shakes his head, like I’m talking nonsense.
“The clutch allows you to switch gears,” I say. “And you need to be in gear to move forward. The accelerator makes you go.”
“So clutch, then first—” His hand wobbles, but he gets there. “—then accelerator.” We jolt forward.
“Excellent.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah… but we’re gonna hit that mailbox.”
Simon looks up from the gear stick. “What do I do?!”
“Steer away.”
“Oh. Right.” He jerks the wheel. “Agh. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. You’re doing really well.”
“Why are you being so nice to me? Back when I was genuinely good at things, you were never this nice. But now that I’m fucking up—”
“You’re just learning. Keep steering.”
“Right, right. Just down the street?”
“Just down the street.”
“Get your wand out,” he says.
“Why?”
“Worst-case scenario.”
“We won’t need it.” I put my hand on his shoulder. Every muscle in his torso is clenched. “You’re going a bit faster now—”
“Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine—just, can you feel it? It wants to change up.”
“What does?”
“The engine. It’s straining.”
“Oh, right. Yeah. So I—”
He changes smoothly into second.
“Crowley, that was excellent, Snow.”
“Let me try—” And he’s in third. Which is too fast for a residential neighbourhood, but well done, all the same.
“Smashing, Simon. You’re a natural.”
